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With plays such as This House and The Vote, writer James Graham has rapidly established himself as a sharp commentator on British politics. Here, in this new work premiering at Theatre Royal Plymouth, he takes a fisheye lens view of postwar Britain – up toLabour’s landslide victory in 1997 – via the complex life of one of its most colourful characters:Screaming Lord Sutch.

Until he hanged himself in 1999, David Sutch, leader of the Official Monster Raving Loony Party, was the fly in the ointment of staid, stage-managed British elections. He was the mad-hatter grinning in the camera flash, popping up behind drearily-suited politicians clearly smiling through gritted teeth. He lost a record-breaking 40 elections, but remains the longest-standing leader of any British political party.

An inveterate hoarder of junk, the lead singer of a band (The Savages) and someone who suffered seriously from depression and lived with his mother for much of his life – Sutch was no ordinary man and, fittingly, Graham gives us no ordinary biographical drama. His Sutch cries the tears of a clown, his life told through sketches inspired by the most beloved British comedians, comic actors and sitcoms since the Forties.

Theatre Royal Plymouth’s artistic director Simon Stokes conjures up a party atmosphere with his production, with hats, raffle tickets and audience participation. The set, which evokes South Harrow Social Club, is littered with TV screens. Everything is a performance – a backdrop to Graham’s depiction of the working-class Sutch as the archetypal clown, his gleeful nonsense undermining the established order of posh-boy politicians and monolithic tradition.

The abundance of ideas is exhilarating, as is the cast’s versatility as they filter their performances through everything from riffs on Pete and Dud to Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em. And these set-ups are a refreshing reminder of how often British comedy has loved the underdog and mocked the establishment. As Sutch, Samuel James is impressively chameleon-like – and as the compulsive joker afraid to let the mask drop, he’s moving when it happens.

This is a hugely imaginative play. And yet, packing in everything from post-war cultural and political changes to the kinship of comedy and tragedy, it occasionally feels glutted, lacking tightness. It depends too heavily on “guess the reference”, losing sight of Sutch as we try to to work out whether we’re now watching a riff on ’Allo ’Allo! Graham’s talent as a writer is clear. But sometimes the bells and whistles drown out the sharpness of his voice here.